


The Movement Of The Stars Themselves

by IWasHereMomentsAgo



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: M/M, and youre like “i dont know what the point of this is., do you ever just get a few hundred words into a fic, it’s just some dude lying in bed thinking about stars and his boyfriend because you got emotional”, literally forever emotional about roy and hal and stars, there’s no story.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 21:44:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWasHereMomentsAgo/pseuds/IWasHereMomentsAgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal thinks about stars and his boyfriend because I got overly emotional about a throwaway line during a reread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Movement Of The Stars Themselves

In the colder months, we slept with the curtains open. It grew dark early enough that the sunshine didn’t hinder our sleep, and the sun rose late enough that it didn’t wake us before we got up ourselves. Not that Royston slept much in the winter, but that was the entire reason we let the moonlight in through our window every night.

I didn’t like to sleep until I knew he had dozed off, and though he never said anything to me, I knew he delayed even trying to fall asleep for as long as he could. And so it had become routine that after several minutes of tossing and turning, Royston would give up in his attempts to sleep and begin to point out the constellations to me through the window and tell me their stories. I was quite sure he was making a few of them up, especially the ones which preceded his attempts to seduce me with tales of what happened when Orion loosened his belt, but I listened nevertheless because it calmed him down, and took his mind off of the nightmares which plagued him at this time of year.

I found it strange, sometimes, that for so long I had been underneath the very same sky as  him, yet I had never found myself so enthralled by the moon or the stars until he was murmuring their stories in my ear. I remembered one night in the country, around five years ago, when I had found it difficult to sleep and had taken a book outside in the hopes the fresh air would do me good. I had been too tired to focus on the words on the page, lit up by the light of the moon, and had fallen back against the grass and watched the sky. It had been the first and only time I had seen a shooting star. I hadn’t known what to wish for. I couldn’t help but wonder if Royston had seen it, if he had been pointing out the Ursa Minor to someone, or had glanced up upon remembering the story of Eridanus and spotted it. He would have known what to wish for.

It was oddly comforting that that night I had never imagined one day I would be in the city, enrolled at the ‘Versity and curled up in bed as the man I loved whispered to me about those very same stars. And though sometimes I missed him in my memories, wishing he could have been there that night or countless others, I was glad for his absence from them. It never occurred to me that he was someone I could lose, but sometimes I forgot what life was like without him. The memories he was absent from did me good when he refused to wash our plates until we had no more to eat from or when I knew a pair of his trousers were still in the attic from a late night two weeks ago or when I got overtired and snappy and the countless other ways we could annoy the living daylights out of each other. I never wanted to take his presence for granted, no matter how much I trusted, for the first time, that someone would always be there for me - it excited me, sometimes, to know that our futures held so much more of each other. I was quite sure I would never tire of him, and truly believed that he would never tire of me, either.

So I let him tell me stories about constellations and turned up to work tired and more well versed in myth and legend than perhaps anyone specialising in magicians had any use to be, but I wouldn’t have stopped him for the world.   For a long time, I had resigned myself to the idea that I would be a tutor in the country and no more, and I had been content with that. Now, I supposed, I wasn’t content - I had so much work, so much to learn, so much to do - but I was happy. 

And that was better.  


End file.
